


My Juliet

by Mother_North



Series: Spectrum: Lighter shade [1]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Emotional, Internal Monologue, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, POV First Person, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Lust, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 08:03:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12008505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mother_North/pseuds/Mother_North
Summary: Javier is head over heels, just like Romeo.





	My Juliet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Puniyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puniyo/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Моя Джульетта](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11598234) by [Mother_North](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mother_North/pseuds/Mother_North). 



> I've decided to make a translation of this little work of mine. It was written some time ago under the title of "Моя Джульетта". The original text in Russian can be found among my works, which are listed on my page. English is not my first language so I apologize for mistakes in advance! Also, I would like to dedicate this work to Puniyo (because her works in this fandom I enjoy immensely) and to all of the figure skating devotees.  
> Hope you'll enjoy this trifle ^-^

POV Javier

     Ice is cold and merciless, but it seems to be ready to submit to you every single time. And I am not surprised at the fact because there’s simply no way not submitting to you. Especially, when you are floating above it’s surface like some kind of a beautiful and delicate bird, denying bonds of gravity. Hand movements – swings of fluttering, powerful wings, your head overturned exposing long and noble swan-like neck for all to marvel at. You are an otherworldly vision while on ice, a mirage bathing in the shimmering light of projectors. Every spectator’s breath is under your total command, the crowd being spellbound by you. Thousands of adoring stares engulfing each and every of your perfect body lines, and I am no exception. I am drinking in all of your well-thought gestures, even the tiniest ones: the way you turn your head, the way you bend your back gracefully in Ina Bauer or your ideally centered mesmerizing spins and powerful jumps with immense width. You’ve got everything, being a total package without a doubt. And during some of the inappreciable, magical moments, I am starting to feel as if it’s a part of you that is in some incomprehensible way _is in everything around_ : instilled in audience’s dilated excited pupils, in reddish hue of Brian’s cheeks on his delighted face and even in the painfully fast beat of my own heart. I am devouring your visual image without restraint, letting it be imprinted upon my consciousness. I know that I won’t be able to get rid of it in the darkness of many of the nights to come. Oh, how strongly I desire to ensnare you, like the rarest and the most precious of birds, so that no one else could even lay his prying eyes upon you. I would have made you my prisoner and my torturer, my slave and my enslaver. _Mine, mine, mine_. You would have been my deity, on whose sacred altar my helplessly enamored heart bleeds it’s undying love. If only you have accepted magnanimously this offering of mine. If only in your black, at times mischievous and sometimes sternly concentrated eyes, I could find the smallest hint of something more than a mere friendly feeling or mutual respect, gained during years of our side to side training.

    I catch you looking at me at some point, your eyes dazed and a bit unfocused, as if you are looking _through_ me. Perhaps, you are still in the parallel universe of your free skate’s “Romeo and Juliet”, dissolved in the tragic tenderness of music by Nino Rota, transformed by the sweetest torment of voluntary death and undefeated love of Shakespeare’s main heroine. _My beautiful Juliet_ : almost femininely slender waist, wrapped in the frills of virgin-like white fabric, long, tapered fingers in pitch black gloves, skintight sleeves adorned with colorful vibrant rhinestones, narrow yet muscled hips giving way to perfect long legs… Never in my whole life have I seen something so pure and undefiled from the outside being so breathtakingly tempting at the same time.

    Not stopping for a minute, I watch Brian embracing you tightly beaming with pride, keeping you close in an ever fatherly and caring manner. I let my imagination reign free, fantasizing about the way my strong hands would palm your tiny waist, then sliding down to your lower back without hesitation, making full use of your firm buttocks. I would caress the delicate skin of your neck with the feather-like touch of my lips, feeling your body starting to shiver slightly at the face of the wakening desire… I would have sold my soul for the opportunity to make you mine. It’s too bad I have already lost it to your irresistible charms.

“He is simply awe-inspiring, don’t you agree, Javier?” asks Misha Ge rhetorically, standing closely to my right and trying to outvoice the unceasing ovation of the excited audience. I nod in agreement hastily, and am a bit embarrassed, as if being caught thinking those kind of things about you. Easy, Javier. Misha is capable of speaking several different languages – not reading other people’s minds.

    Having made a round of necessary bows to the public, you are now sitting next to Brian in the Kiss & Cry. He is telling you something, leaning to be heard better and you are giving him your famous heart melting smile. I can see clearly how you are clutching your indispensible yellow-red plushy bear close to your chest in a seemingly child-like fashion. There’s something so touching and innocent in this gesture of shared camaraderie between you and the toy that I find my throat suddenly become tight. You look so vulnerable and exposed, shining with unbridled joy from the inside, being satisfied with your performance that I feel an overwhelming need to protect you. You look practically as a boy in his adolescence. I watch the way you are rubbing your little palms in anticipation of the well-deserved high marks from the judges, your gleaming eyes never leaving the lit scoreboard. I want to whisper into your ear that you are the best for me, no matter what and not just now. _Always_. You are special in so many aspects, there are no others similar to you, regardless of the number of quads landed successfully or whether you’ve done the necessary quantity of spins or how precise you’ve been in your step sequence in order to be able to get the fourth level of difficulty for your technical elements… All of the mentioned is of no true significance to me. The feeling blooming in my chest while I watch you fly seemingly weightless above the glassy surface of the ice, leaving intricate patterns in the wake of your skating blades, the way you are abandoning yourself wholeheartedly to the music, telling a tragic story of everlasting love with your body and soul. This is what matters. You are so desperately raw and extremely sincere, it often leaves me breathless. The power of your magic can not be estimated in any figures or GOE, no amount of flowers and toys thrown onto the ice by the adoring fans can measure the incomparable thrill I feel when I see you perform. There’s something beyond materialistic and imperceptibly mystical in your skating. _Transcedental_.

    There’s hardly any doubt that you are in your place, having found your path, making all of the others follow you in an attempt to catch up. In spite of the hardships and constantly rising challenges, you are never the one to give up, a natural born _conquistador_. Maybe, one day I’ll manage to reach you shining brightly in your orbit. I swear I am ready to do everything possible for making it happen and even more. Now I have a feeling that you came to this world to make history, to be the constant source of inspiration in your never stopping quest for perfection, aspiring higher and higher. Sometimes I get scared because no flight can last eternally, but I’ll gladly be the one near you when your imminent fall happens, the one to share pain and bitterness of your loss. I’ll be the one to help you realize that the wings given to you at your birth are always with you, no matter what is destined ahead. And besides you’ve got my unwanted love, even if you are never meant to find out about it, in the first place. My most principal and _treasured_ rival.

    And now I can feel your willowy arms embracing my neck tightly, your quivering body, still high on adrenaline, so torturously close to my eager one. I return your hug almost feverishly, whispering into your slightly damp disheveled hair: “Congratulations”. The faint smell of your skin is overwhelming and I close my eyes drowning in it, for a moment. Just one word spoken between us, but I try to put all of my earnest admiration and respect for you into it, all of my unfulfilled desire and scorching longing poured into these vowels and consonants. I hope my heartfelt warmth reaches you somehow. I feel that at the couple of brief moments of our embrace you can sense it too, you can understand me without words. My fluttering heart beats wildly in _your_ heaving chest and we are closer now than we’ve ever been and, perhaps, than we’ll ever be in the future. It is only in this short moment of shared joy that we feel as one. Today’s evening is undeniably your triumph but I am happy to get a chance to bask in the light of your glory and feel the pure gush of your happiness. Your luminescent victorious smile giving me an unparalleled feeling of touching something truly _beautiful_. Your magnificence unveiled, blinding me.

   Your cheeks are flushed with embarrassment and you are trying to squirm out of my tight embrace, but I am not planning on letting you go too soon.

_Maybe, you are not mine, Yuzuru, but you are my own Juliet._

 


End file.
